


Half of English Magic

by AlexSimon



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell & Related Fandoms, Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (TV), Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 23:28:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5434814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexSimon/pseuds/AlexSimon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt on the kink meme where someone wanted to know what Norrell's response to a rumor of Strange being killed in the Peninsula would be like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Half of English Magic

To no one's surprise, it was Drawlight who heard first. 

To everyone's, when he finally conveyed what he knew to them, it turned out that he held the information for almost two anxious days of uncommon quiet. 

He dawdled on the morning he finally decided that it was time and made several attempts to begin his speech while he held a cup of tea that he never drank from and eventually put down with a loud clink and slosh that drew the attention of Henry Lascelles. 

"Be careful," said Lascelles without looking up from the paper he was writing on. "That set is valuable." 

Mr Norrell's attention had not been taken away from his book by something as small as a splash of Christopher Drawlight's tea or even an expensive tea cup and he continued to read. 

Childermass however had noticed Drawlight's unease and his frequent attempts to speak. His clear effort to tell them something but not quite be able to do it had been enough to make him uneasy as Drawlight at a loss of words was unusual and concerning. 

"What is it, Mr Drawlight?" he asked. 

Drawlight seemed relieved to have been noticed finally and to have been asked in a straightforward fashion what it was that was the matter. That lasted for a moment and then, again, he frowned and shifted in his chair. 

By this point, Mr Norrell had looked up from his book, drawn by the hint of discomfort in Childermass' voice. The two looked at each other and then at Drawlight. 

"Is there something the matter?" asked Norrell. He asked it to Drawlight with his question first and then he asked it to Childermass without speaking when he turned quickly to look at him again. "What is going on?" 

It was not until now that Lascelles gave the conversation his attention and joined in the party waiting for Christopher Drawlight to speak. 

"Well," Drawlight said. He knotted his hands and gave a little cough and then started again. "I was at dinner on Wednesday evening with a man whose brother-" 

"Why are you telling us something that happened Wednesday evening with the brother of someone we do not know?” asked Lascelles and he made a show of glancing back at his paper like he was already bored with whatever it was that Drawlight had to say and intended to return to his work.

"Go on," said Childermass. 

"It seems- well, did you know that Jonathan Strange's servant has died? The one who went with him? He died in a battle. A rather horrible one." 

Lascelles shook his head and looked at Norrell in hopes of conveying how insignificant he thought this story was and creating a moment of conspiratorial judgement between them, but Mr Norrell was staring at Drawlight with his mouth open and Childermass had taken a step toward his master. Something important had happened and Lascelles had somehow missed it, which made him annoyed. Even Drawlight sensed some significance that he did not, a thing that was nearly too much to bear. 

"Well, that's very sad, of course-" Lascelles began to say.

"Mr Lascelles," said Childermass. "You do not understand. Where Jeremy Johns was, Strange was as well. Mr Drawlight, why did you wait to say anything?"

"It was a very difficult thing to say," protested Drawlight in a feeble voice. "And if it were not true-"

"What about Mr Strange?" asked Norrell. He held his book still like a shield in front of him. "What do they say about him?" 

Christopher Drawlight looked down at his feet. 

"Mr Drawlight," said Childermass. 

"There is a rumor, just a rumor, mind you-" 

Mr Norrell did not let him finish his sentence. He finally loosed his hold on the book he had been reading and set it on the desk. 

"Childermass," he said. "I need to see."

Lascelles and Drawlight were quickly forgotten. For once, Drawlight was glad of this and he slid down into his seat, making himself as small as he could and glancing at the door. He thought of sneaking away now that he had finally told them, now that it was done. 

Lascelles watched Childermass leave the library and return with Norrell's basin and a pitcher of water and attempted to think of a way to interject himself into the process. He stood near them but was ignored no matter how many times he tried to peek over at the basin or move closer without seeming too eager. 

Norrell poured the water and quartered it with a finger. He muttered to himself and then held his breath, looking into the reflection as it slowly transformed into a cloudy picture of a faraway place. Childermass' shoulder and long hair blocked Lascelles from seeing all of the vision, but what appeared in the basin seemed to be a small group of dirty men sleeping on the ground. Lascelles could not quite hear what Norrell said, even when he repeated the process, this time looking accusingly at the water when it showed him nothing but a variation on the scene from the first viewing, now with the added sound of neighing horses and alarmingly, the distinct sound of crying. The room had gone so quiet by this point that the sobbing was clearly heard by all and Mr Norrell flinched at it. 

The third time, Lascelles thought he saw the empty inside of a foreign looking house, afternoon sunshine coming in through an open window. 

After the fourth, Childermass gently took the basin away. 

"We will try again, later," he said. 

"Childermass. He is not there."

"Later, Mr Norrell." 

Childermass removed the basin from the room. Norrell said nothing while he was gone, but blinked at the place that it had been until Childermass returned. 

"Perhaps it is time to quit business for the day," he said. 

"Yes," muttered Norrell with a frail nod. He shakily removed his reading spectacles from his face but once they were in his hands, he forgot what to do with them until Childermass took them away and set them next to the book on the desk.

Norrell pulled his chair back and absently reached for Childermass' elbow after he had stood. Childermass led him away from the desk and to the door of the library. 

"What can I do?" asked Lascelles.

"What do you mean?" asked Childermass, not bothering to mask his exhaustion with the man. 

"I said it clearly. What can I do?" 

"You have said it more loudly, thank you, but I still don't understand. There is nothing you can do."

Childermass and Norrell left and Lascelles crossed his arms at their retreating figures and then turned to Drawlight. 

"You planned this, didn't you?" he asked. "You kept it from me on purpose." 

But Drawlight was too tired to fight with him or even work up any real fear at this accusation and only sat where he had until Lascelles gave up and he left the room and the house as quickly as he could. 

*******

Lascelles waited in the library for over an hour and no one returned, not in person nor with any sort of message for him. 

He finally went out into the corridor and demanded of the first servant he saw that he know what was going on. 

To Lascelles' most profound anger, even the servant had forgotten he was there and blinked in surprise at being rounded on by him. 

"Mr Norrell is indisposed, sir," the man said like it was very obvious, which it was. 

"And Childermass?" 

"Gone to Mrs Strange." 

"Well!" Lascelles sputtered to himself. "Well!" 

"I can get your coat, sir." 

"Yes, do that!" 

At the door, he fretted for a bit before leaving, not liking that he was asking such a person for information he should have already been given and postponing the process as long as he could. 

"Will Mr Norrell come down tomorrow?" 

"I don't know, sir. Very sorry, Mr Lascelles." 

Lascelles left and decided that he would come tomorrow anyway and be seen or know why. 

*******

Mr Norrell had shut the curtains against the afternoon and was lying on his bed with one arm covering his eyes when Childermass returned a few hours after leaving to see Mrs Strange.

"Is there news?" he asked. He removed his arm from his eyes and made a strained looking effort to lift his head and then to pull himself to a sitting position. 

"I believe have done nothing but alarm the woman," said Childermass wearily. It was a warm day and he had gone quickly across town and back and had returned sweaty. He took a second to wipe his face with a handkerchief from his pocket. "It was the first she had heard of it." 

"Oh," said Norrell. He tried to fathom for a moment a lady's reaction to the rumor of the death of her husband and could not, so he looked back to Childermass to ask him what it was. 

"She was composed," explained Childermass, "but clearly worried. I told her I was sorry and asked her to let us know if she heard anything." 

"Good," said Norrell. Then he paused and reconsidered. "Is it good, Childermass? Surly a man's wife would know?" 

"News can travel slowly," said Childermass. "There were many casualties, many families to reach. I am sure there is a lot of confusion." 

"He is not a soldier!" said Norrell. "He is half of English magic. This is worse than losing one of the royal Dukes. There are many of those, but we are only two. Someone should know if he is killed or not." 

"I understand," said Childermass. 

"No," muttered Norrell, his moment of anger spent. He crumpled in on himself like a wadded up bit of paper. "No, this time you do not." 

Childermass was quiet in response. 

"Shall I leave?" he asked when a minute or so of quiet had passed. 

Norrell furrowed into his bed. 

"The light is very bright, Childermass. I have a headache." 

"Lie down, Mr Norrell. We will know more soon, with any luck." 

Norrell did and though Chidlermass could do nothing about a bright May afternoon, he stood in the room keeping watch until Norrell was asleep and then he went to read his cards. 

**********

When Norrell woke in the early evening, there was cold food by his bed and he asked Childermass to have it taken away. All he wanted to do was see again if he could find Strange in the water. 

Childermass did not advise it, but Norrell would not be dissuaded, so he brought the basin and the water again. Norrell sat with it on the bed, his legs crossed. 

"He is half of English magic," said Norrell to an empty field.

"We were not done with our studies. I had made a plan for him," he said to a chirping summer forest somewhere far away. 

Childermass let him look for over an hour this time. Norrell flicked back and forth between places he had already tried, just in case Strange should appear in one of them, but it was always the same.

Mr Norrell jumped when he thought he heard someone say his pupil's name, but it was only a man saying how strange it was that that that something or another had happened. Norrell could not say what as he stopped listening after he discerned they were not talking about Jonathan. 

He eventually allowed a break for the night and to be changed into his sleeping gown. 

"Try to sleep, Mr Norrell," said Childermass before leaving him. "We may know more in the morning." 

Norrell lay in his bed but did not sleep until close to dawn. Childermass never changed out his clothes or got into his bed at all, but sat all night with his pipe and his cards, waiting for Norrell to call him. 

*********

Mr Lacelles returned in the morning far too early for anyone to find it convenient. He was already annoyed when he arrived because Drawlight had been impossible find since yesterday when he had left Hanover Square and the lack of response to his presence made his mood worse. He huffed around making the maids nervous until Childermass was forced to come see him.

"Mr Norrell is unwell today," Childermass said. "He won't be coming down." 

"So I have come all this way for nothing?" 

"No one asked you to do it, sir. But I am sorry for your wasted time." 

Lascelles crossed his arms. He ruffled his nose to show Childermass that he could smell strong pipe smoke on him and found it unpleasant. 

"Is there any chance of his health improving later in the morning?" 

"I am not a fortune teller, Mr Lacelles," said Childermass. "Though the city is full of people who claim to be such if you would like to ask one."

"I would like some tea before I leave then, if I must go." 

He did not really, but he was put out and wanted to tell Childermass to do something. 

"Very well. I will have some brought." 

The tea nearly turned into lunch so long did Lascelles stall and watch the door to see if Norrell would come. 

If Strange was dead, he wanted to be here for Norrell to imprint on in the moments after he knew, to be the first person to give advice. It was essential that should the news be confirmed that he was here, otherwise who knew who Norrell might choose to allow into the space in his influence Strange had vacated.

He was eventually alone for so long and was asked by so many nosy servants if there was anything else he needed that it was embarrassing and he left quietly. 

********

The day passed slowly for Gilbert Norrell. 

He napped when the exhaustion of the sleepless night before became too much and tiredness overcame him. When he was awake he fretted and called for Childermass so much that the man brought a chair to the side of his bed. 

He did not eat though he was encouraged to. 

He proclaimed the basin a failure around lunch time and railed against its inaccuracies while Childermass listened. 

He asked Childermass to bring him the book where he had written his course of study for Mr Strange. He flipped through the book and poked at the pages, holding them for Childermass to look at. 

"Do you see, Childermass? We were not close to complete. He had much to learn still. Now who will know?"

"You will. As you always have." 

"This is a great loss," said Norrell. "A great loss. He had contributed so much. Do you see here? This note I've written. This was something I had never considered before, about a passage I had read many times. Strange said it to me and I wrote it down." 

"Perhaps it is best not to speak of the loss before it is confirmed," suggested Childermass. 

"He was not there," said Norrell. 

"There may be some reason." 

Norrell sighed and put the book the down after a last glance at the note he had made about something Jonathan Strange had said the year before. Outside the window a bird, unseen behind the still closed curtains, gave a noisy series of calls and Norrell put his hand to his head. 

"I know you have done it," he said. "What do your cards say?" 

"Each response is vaguer than the last," said Childermass after a pause. "I've drawn several times cards that can mean war and danger, but that is not surprising."  
"And you're sure that you're asking correctly?"

"As sure as I can be, Mr Norrell." 

Norrell slumped down, further deflated seconds later by the sound of a hallway clock chiming and letting him know that it was only 2:00 in the afternoon.  
"How will English magic recover, if Mr Strange is lost?" 

This was his last question before succumbing to sleep again. 

*********

Around 7:00 in the evening, Childermass had left the room to return Mr Norrell's untouched dinner to the kitchen when there was a small commotion at the front door to the house. He heard excited voices as he walked up the stairs, taking them two at a time. When he arrived to see what had happened, Arabella Strange was taking off her bonnet in the entrance way and two of the maids had already flocked to her. Mrs Strange's face was pink with an emotion not discernible at first and she lifted her hand to eyes for a moment before drawing a deep breath and smiling. 

"Please," she said. "Can you tell Mr Norrell? I have just had a visitor. Can you tell him that Jonathan is alive?"


End file.
